


Unbelievable

by startrekkingaroundasgard



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 03:55:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18024185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard
Summary: Uni/College AU. Reader is studying ASL as university and gets partnered with Clint. As the weeks pass, they grow closer but neither says anything until one day in the library when Clint overhears the reader confessing her feelings to a friend.





	Unbelievable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BarnesnMrNoble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarnesnMrNoble/gifts).



“Okay, as promised, I’ve rounded up some volunteers to help you practise your signing,” your lecturer said. He leant back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, looking very proud of himself, as if it weren’t actually part of the course mandate to have partners with whom you could practise. “I partnered you together randomly but if you have a problem deal with it yourself. Swap with someone else. So long as you turn up to the sessions, it doesn’t really matter who you talk to, anyway.”

You were directed towards a guy who may have just been dragged in straight off the streets. His blond hair was so messy that it couldn’t have been styled, unless he was going for a “I haven’t showered in three weeks” kind of look. He was wearing purple glasses which did nothing to hide the bags under his eyes and a torn up jacket that had to be over 20 years old. Nursing his coffee like it was the cure to all of his problems, he glanced up as you sat down and frowned.

 _Hey. Nice to meet you._ You started with the basic greeting and spelt out your name, those signs coming easily. After all, it had been the first thing you’d learned in your lessons. If you didn’t know how to introduce yourself after all these weeks then you were really going to have trouble in the exams next month. _What’s your name?_

_Clint._

You waited for him to say something else but that was all the information he provided. Almost immediately, you discounted the possibility that he was just shy. He didn’t look like the kind of person to hide away during parties; in fact, judging by the way he was cradling his head and sporting a few interestingly placed bruises up his neck, you figured that Clint was more a life of the party kind of man.

Conscious of how little time you had left of this lesson, you decided to just press ahead with the conversation in the hopes that his coffee would eventually sober him up and he’d join in. You began reeling off all the phrases you’d memorised; what you were studying, your interests, your family.

With less than five minutes to go, Clint still hadn’t replied once. You’d asked all the right questions and earned an approving nod from your tutor but your partner had yet to say anything. Looking at him, you weren’t even sure that he was awake. When was the last time he’d opened his eyes? 30 seconds? 2 minutes? 5? You really weren’t sure so did the only sensible thing and thumped him in the arm.

“What the fuck!” Clint’s reflexes kicked in and him immediately hit back, whacking you right in the crook of your elbow. His shock faded away to something between embarrassment and mortification and he instantly reached over to put his hand on your shoulder and check that you were alright. When he was sure he hadn’t broken your arm - because damn there had been a lot of power behind that hit - Clint asked, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, pushing down the wince as you moved your arm back and forth to check that that was really true. Every tiny movement sent a sharp jolt running up to your shoulder. While it hurt like a bitch, you knew you’d survive. “I’m fine.”

Clint narrowed his eyes as he watched your lips move. Noticing your slightly confused gaze, he tapped his ear and said, “My hearing aids are in my room. World’s already too loud with a hangover. Don’t need it amplified. So, you know, if you could try and sign as you speak, that’d help. Why did you hit me?”

“You were sleeping.”

“And? I’m tired.”

“You’re meant to be helping me. You can go back to bed later.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ve actually been to bed today.”

“Wow.”

“I know, I’m a catch.”

Before you could grace that with a comment, the bell rang and signalled the end of your lesson. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and handed it to Clint, not altogether surprised that he immediately dropped it and nearly smashed the screen into a million tiny pieces. You bent down to pick it up, your fingers brushing over his as you did. Meeting his gaze, feeling a warmth rise to your cheeks, you said, “I, uh… If you’re free, can we meet up sometime this week and practise properly? When you aren’t half asleep?”

Mumbling something to the effect of always being half asleep and this probably being the best you’d ever see him, Clint nodded and began putting in his number. “Coffee.”

“What?” you asked, pressing dial to check that he’d put in the correct number in his sleep deprived haze. A few seconds later, his ringtone began blaring from his trouser pocket. The only reason Clint even realised it was ringing was because it also vibrated too.

Saving your number, Clint said, “That’s my price. I help you and you buy me coffee. And not the shit stuff in the library. The proper decent stuff from Starbucks, with espresso shots and energy packets too. I take six sugars, too.”

“How are you even alive?” you asked, failing miserably to hide your horrified expression.

“My body is a well oiled machine.” Clint pulled a ridiculous pose but it did highlight some incredible muscles which you definitely should have noticed earlier. That heat returning to your cheeks once again, Clint flashed you a blinding smile and waved. “See you round, then.”

“Yeah, see you.”

Clint strutted out the classroom like he was a runway model in Milan, twirls and all, so consumed by his fantasy that he walked straight into a bin and fell ass over head onto one of the main pathways through campus. Some students spared him a briefly concerned glance but most just ignored him and pushed on to their next lesson.

Pulling together his dignity, which somehow appeared to remain completely intact even after such an epic fall, Clint jumped up onto a small wall and avoided the remaining rush of students. It was a remarkable change in balance compared to moments before but it didn’t last long.

He tripped over his feet, landing directly on top of the football team. They weren’t bothered though; they actually seemed rather impressed. They cheered his name and carried him away to his next lesson as if this were a perfectly normal occurrence for a Thursday afternoon.

You watched all of this in awe, wondering what kind of bizarre human you’d just met, unable to shake the feeling that life after Clint would never be the same again.

***

When he wasn’t sleeping, Clint was a surprisingly good teacher. In the beginning, he hadn’t spoken much. He would just watch you sign and then only speak to correct your mistakes. The criticisms were to the point and, at times, a little rude but they were always fair. Within a week you had learned more than in the entire year of taught lessons and were racing ahead with your abilities.

As the days passed, and you got more coffee in him, Clint also opened up and then you couldn’t shut him up. It turned out that he was possibly the most interesting person you had ever met. Currently studying international politics, this was Clint’s fifth attempt at a major. He’d lost count of how many years he’d been at this university and had become such a familiar face that a lot of the cafes and outlets on campus thought he was just another caffeine addicted lecturer who had lost his staff ID again. (He never corrected them because they kept giving him discounts on his coffee.)

Over the years, he’d also become rather famous amongst the student body. You’d even heard some of the bizarre stories - which ranged from nearly being arrested after practising parkour on the university’s brand new science labs to being chased around the campus naked by a family of angry bunny rabbits - but had never realised that the insane man behind the myths was, in fact, Clint. When you asked why he did these crazy things, he had just shrugged and said, “Because I can, I guess. It’s all good fun.” It truly was a wonder that he was still alive at all.

The only constant of Clint’s ever changing university career - and his single, sensible past time - was his involvement in the archery club. From the first day it had been clear that Clint had a talent for shooting things and had quickly risen through the ranks. The only reason he wasn’t running the society was because he couldn’t be bothered to fill out all the paperwork. Judging by how far he was apparently into his overdraft this term, it was probably for the best that someone else was in charge.

Quite unexpectedly, you started to look forward to your sessions with him. It was almost like your daily hour with him was a prize for making it through the difficult days. Not even double statistics could bring you down.

It was a rainy Wednesday morning, a few weeks into your sessions together, and you were sat with Clint in your regular cafe. Your bank account hadn’t been happy about the daily Starbucks trips so you’d suggested this place instead. It was independently owned and looked a little worse for wear around the edges but the coffee was great - even Clint with his expensive tastes agreed on that - and far kinder to your budget.

Clint was draped over a huge sofa, claiming the entire space as his own. He had forgone getting dressed today, favouring instead his purple pyjama bottoms and a baggy t-shirt, covered in a multitude of unidentifiable stains, which was in dire need of repair. It was a miracle that it wasn’t falling apart at the seams, honestly.

You talked about how your sister’s roommate was moving out and that you were thinking of moving in with her, as the rent was far cheaper than your room on campus. Clint immediately advised against it and launched into a tale of the terrible trouble he and his brother had gotten in to on the single time they’d shared a house together.

About half way through his story, Clint realised you weren’t paying attention. He pushed himself upright and hung over the sofa arm, waving his hand in front of your face. He accidentally clipped your nose in the process which, understandably, jolted you quite roughly out of your thoughts.

“Shit, sorry. You alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” you said, gently feeling for any damage. That was something you’d gotten quite used to, around Clint. He was the literal definition of a walking disaster zone. If you lasted five minutes near him without getting hurt or having scorching coffee spilt in your lap then it was a minor miracle.

“Seriously? Are you sure?” Clint leant over so far that he had all but climbed into your oversized seat. He rested his hand on your thigh, not high enough to be presumptive but far enough above your knee to send your heart racing.

Your brain completely shut down when he started tracing random patterns with his thumb. He was staring at you with a concern far too deep for someone you’d only known for three weeks. “Uh…”

Clint pressed the back of his hand to your forehead and gently twisted your head from side to side. Engrossed in his examination, Clint muttered to himself, “Good going, Barton. Give the girl a concussion and she’ll never want to see you again.”

Brain successfully rebooted, clarity returned to your thoughts and snapped you out of your daze. You slapped away his hands and said, “I do not have a concussion. And if I had, what you just did would not have helped!”

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Clint was so close you could see every tiny fleck in his beautiful blue eyes. He bit the corner of his lip as he stared at you, worry still clear on his face.

“I promise I’m fine. And you don’t have to worry. I mean, uh, it’ll take more than a bump on the nose or a potentially life threatening injury for me to never want to see you again,” you clarified.

“Oh yeah?” Clint asked, the corner of his mouth turning upwards in a goofy grin. “Has the Barton magic finally started to work? Falling for your teacher?”

You rolled your eyes and went to shove him away before you said or did something stupid, like admit just how close to the mark he was. But he was too fast and he just caught your wrist. The rest of the world faded away to nothing. It was just you and Clint and nothing else in the universe mattered.

Clint lifted a hand to your cheek, the other resting comfortably on your hip. His fingers gently followed the line of your jaw, exploring every inch of your soft skin. He traced the delicate curve of your mouth with his thumb, sending electricity racing through your veins. You parted your lips and felt him lean in closer, your heart nearly beating out of your chest. Your eyes flickered shut as you leant into his soft touch.

The sudden crash of a plate hitting the floor tore you both from the moment. You leapt away from each other and held each other’s gaze for a long moment before wordlessly agreeing never to speak of this again. That sorted, you grabbed your books and rose from the chair in perfect unison.

“You’ve got Prof Coulson today, right?” Clint asked, displaying once again his extraordinary ability to recall the tiniest details. You’d only shown him your timetable one time, when you were trying to figure out the best times for your session, but it seemed to have seared itself into Clint’s wonderfully complex brain. “Try not to fall asleep again.”

“That was one time.”

You opened the cafe door and shuddered, the cold rain hitting your face like tiny bullets. You pulled your umbrella from your bag and looked over to Clint, unsurprised to see that he was not prepared for this weather (as if being in his pjs wasn’t proof enough of that). “You gonna be okay without a coat or umbrella?”

Clint scoffed, flipping his imaginary golden locks over his shoulder. “I am tougher than a little summer rain. I need a shower anyway. And this way I’ll be saving on the water bill.”

***

The stench of desperation hung heavy in the air, barely covering the overwhelming mist of coffee fumes and sneaky takeaways hidden beneath the tables. Hundreds of students hadn’t moved from their chairs for hours - only getting up to go to the loo, after asking a random stranger to protect their notes from other strangers. Some had even stuck it out for over 72 hours to finish their dissertations before the deadlines hit. Personal hygiene was but a distant dream for most, their only focus making it through the week alive.

Usually you avoided the library at all costs during exam season. Today, though, you’d been convinced to journey into Hell by Olivia, a friend on your course, for a study date. Thankfully, it wasn’t quite as bad as you’d been expecting. You managed to find a “social corner” where the atmosphere was far less oppressive than in the rest of the library. Here you could chat without fear of being shh-ed by a sleep deprived post-grad who had lost the will to live three redrafts ago.

You managed to stay on task for a whole twelve minutes before you got distracted. It didn’t bother you, not really. Both you and Olivia were pretty well prepared for your exams - maybe not 100% confident, but considerably more ready than the people cramming in other parts of the library - and it was good for you to talk about something else other than grades and studying.

Mind melting from gossip of classes you weren’t taking, you excused yourself to grab a coffee from the nearby cafe. After all, it had been over an hour since your last cup and that just wasn’t acceptable. On your return, you caught sight of a familiar face. Clint.

Smiling instantly, your heart skipped a beat. It was one of those rare days when he actually passed as a functional human being. Well fitted jeans and a thin hoodie, you had to admit that he looked good. He still had one of his archery arm guards on but that was a hardly a surprise. You’d seen him wearing it so often that you’d begun to wonder if it was a permanent accessory of his. He caught your eye and you gave him a little wave before ducking back into the booth with your friend.

“Who was _that_?” Olivia asked, peering out around your chair to get a better look at Clint. He’d turned his back on you both but your friend didn’t seem to mind one bit. It wasn’t like you could blame her. On multiple occasions you had caught yourself staring at his rather spectacular ass, wondering just how many squats it took to keep it so toned.

You pulled your phone out from your bag and scrolled through Tumblr without taking in any of what you were seeing. “That’s Clint,” you mumbled, avoiding Olivia’s gaze entirely. “Shut up. I know what you’re going to say.”

“Oh, honey, you’ve no idea. Please tell me that he’s single and you’re gonna ask him out.”

“Liv…”

“If you don’t then I absolutely will. Consider that your official warning.” She was wearing that grin again, the one full of mischief which only ever led to terrible decisions and 5 am regrets while you sat in McDonalds eating an entire box of 20 chicken nuggets. “Seriously, hun, you never told me that he was so hot.”

You slumped forward and buried your head in your arms, pressing your forehead against the cool table top as you prayed for her to stop. She didn’t.

Shaking your shoulders, Olivia said, “Come on, girl. You’ve gotta tell me everything.”

“I don’t know what to say, Liv.” Sitting up straight, you took a deep breath and prepared to bare your soul. It was alright. He wouldn’t be able to read your lips with your back to him. It was fine. Throwing caution to the wind, you opened the floodgates. “Well, he’s gorgeous. Obviously. But he’s sarcastic and ridiculous and really kind beneath all the weirdness. He drinks as much coffee as I do, which is of course a big turn on. We watch the same stupid tv shows and have you seen him when he’s doing archery?”

Olivia’s smothered a laugh at the far away look on your face. “You have it so bad.”

“I know,” you groaned, hitting your head on the back of your chair. “It’s the worst.”

“Why? Just tell him how you feel.”

“And risk him just brushing it off as nothing? Laughing at me?”

“I would never laugh at you, darling,” Clint said, suddenly appearing beside your table.

Your friend immediately took stock of the situation and shoved everything on the table into her bag - including half of your notes. She blew you a kiss as she all but ran towards the exit, leaving you to explain her sudden departure. Signing along with your words, as was custom now between you and Clint, you said slowly, “Olivia, uh… I think she has a class starting soon?”

“On a Saturday?” Clint grinned at you, lopsided as he sipped his coffee.

“Is it Saturday?” You rolled your eyes at your own stupidity and slumped back in your chair. You downed what was left of your drink, grimacing as the cold, bitter liquid slid down your throat. “Just shut up, okay? What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you hated the library.”

“I do. And I really hate their coffee,” he said, staring at your now empty cup as if it were about to sprout arms and legs and throttle him to death. “But I had to collect on a bet.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Sam bet me that I couldn’t hit a target on a moving car.”

You narrowed your eyes, convinced that there was more to it than that. As it turned out, your intuition had been correct. Not only had Clint had to hit a target on a moving car, he had been going the opposite direction, on a crappy skateboard, while doing a handstand. Somehow he managed to do that even after having spent the previous four hours drinking neat vodka.

Amazed that he was still alive with the insane life he lead, you leant forward and asked, “How much did you win?”

“Two fifty,” he said proudly. Clint reached into his pocket and pulled out not notes but coins. He hadn’t won two hundred and fifty dollars, as you’d assumed. He’d literally done the craziest stunt, risked life and limb, for two dollars fifty which, upon further inspection, proved to be fake anyway.

“You are unbelievable.”

“So I’ve heard.” Clint rested his chin on his hands and grinned in a way which had you squirming in your seat. “I’ve also heard that you think I’m gorgeous, which I can’t disagree with.”

“You heard that? What I said?”

Clint nodded. He tapped his ears gently and said, “I do have hearing aids, you know.”

“But you never wear them! In all the weeks I’ve known you, not once!”

“They give me a headache. I had them in for a lecture; that old bastard Pierce refuses to let me have an interpreter because he thinks it distracts everyone else, as if anyone actually pays attention in his class. Anyway, I had them in before I came here to collect my winnings - shut up - and just hadn’t taken them out. Kinda glad I didn’t.”

“You are?”

“Sure. It’s always nice to hear how awesome I am.”

You rolled your eyes and thumped him in the arm. He immediately retaliated but held his strength, unlike the first time you’d met when he’d nearly fractured your bone.

“You’ve got your signing exam on Monday right?” You nodded. Clint caught the flash of nerves in your eyes and reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “I’m sure you’ll do great. Are you, uh… Are you free tonight?”

“Yeah. I’ve got practise til seven but I’m free after that.”

“Great. I’ll pick up at eight then? I know this great place in town. It looks a bit dodgy from the outside and is probably run by the Russian mafia but they have the best all you can eat pizza buffet.”

You opened your mouth to reply when the reality of his words hit you like a tonne of bricks. Surely, you couldn’t have heard that right. “Wait… What? Are you asking me out?”

“Yes…” Clint answered, his brow creasing. “You think I’m awesome. I agreed and invited you for pizza. Is that not what just happened?”

“I thought you were asking if I wanted to practise before my test. Not that you were… you know…!” You waved your arms around, unable to believe that Clint Barton was asking you out on a date. You have never dreamed that he’d be interested in you this way and couldn’t work out if this was some kind of joke. Sure, Clint wasn’t the type of person to be cruel but you had to be sure before you set your heart out on a platter to be broken. “Why? Why me?”

“Do I actually have to spell it out? You are the coolest person I’ve ever met. The only one who doesn’t make me feel any less because of this.” He gestured to his ears before continuing, “You’re funny and smart and dress really interestingly and for the last five weeks all I’ve been able to think about is kissing you.”

“Oh… Well, I guess when you put it that way…”

Forgoing all sensibility, you reached across the table and tugged on Clint’s hoodie, pulling him towards you. You closed the gap then kissed him softly. Smiling against his lips, you leant away but didn’t get too far as Clint’s hand slipped behind your neck and drew you back.

He cupped your cheek with his hand, staring so deeply into your eyes that you swore you felt it deep in your soul. He kissed you a little harder, testing the waters, and you instantly melted into his touch.

When you finally pulled apart, you and Clint were both a little breathless.

“So, uh,” Clint said, grinning like a prize idiot. He ran a hand through his hair, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink when he caught a few of his friends nearby cheering. “That’s a yes, right? To pizza and stuff?”

“Yeah. That’s definitely a yes.”


End file.
